


Movement

by SpookyMiscreant



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Peter POV, Pining, based around Movement by Hozier, everyone is alive and fine because I didnt want to write angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-27 22:43:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20768168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyMiscreant/pseuds/SpookyMiscreant
Summary: Peter finds himself in love with Stiles' motions, unfortunately (or rather fortunately) Stiles is always moving.*the skeleton of this fic is Movement by Hozier so give it a listen while you read if you want!*





	Movement

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I fucking LOVE Hozier and Wasteland, Baby is such a fantastic album full of songs that I think really resonate with Steter and Movement really hit me hard tonight on the way home from class so I put it on again when I got home and blacked out. When I woke up I had 1871 words written so here you go!
> 
> [Here's the tumblr post with an edit!](https://lacrossepapi.tumblr.com/post/187936085178/movement)

Peter wasn’t sure why he did this. Perhaps he was more masochistic than he thought, since he continued to find himself at Jungle drunk and enraptured by Stiles. The boy was edgy most of the time, movements jerky and rigid, but somehow he came alive with a little bit of booze and the anonymity that comes with dancing in a big crowd. His movements became slow and flowing from one to the next instead of the anxiety and fear filled motions he usually made. Peter was enchanted by the peace he found there. Both the peace within Stiles dancing and within himself watching Stiles be unburdened. He had never thought he’d feel the sort of happiness that comes from others happiness again. Derek no longer radiated pleased contentment, and Cora no longer grinned so fiercely her cheek ached. The Hale’s were broken and damaged, and Peter blamed himself for their hardships. He chased any momentary peace he could get safely, which is how he found himself going out with the pack one weekend after their weekly pack meeting. He discovered the beauty of Stiles’ body in a way he’d never noticed before. Stiles was alive in a way Peter never remembered being. Even standing still, the boy was constantly buzzing with activity. It was in his darting eyes, twitching nose, and bitten lips. Everything about Stiles was filled with more life, energy, and even more love than Peter thought he would ever have the capacity to have himself. Peter had been attracted to the man for some time, but it was that night that Peter thought that maybe he loved Stiles. 

_I still watch you when you're groovin'_  
_As if through water from the bottom of a pool_  
_You're movin' without movin'_  
_And when you move, I'm moved_

“Let go of him!” Stiles’ scream of fury and rage echoed in the clearing, forcing its way passed the sounds of battle all around him, as he charged the giant holding Isaac by the ankle.  
The giant stopped swinging Isaac around as if he was a fly swatter and his pack flies at the sound of that rage. Peter was moving before he even registered that Stiles had moved passed him, his body automatically racing to catch up and protect the human.  
“Interesting. You’re only human.” The giant laughed after a sniff.  
“And you’re an asshole!” Stiles shouted in response, but his eyes weren’t on the giant, they were on Peter.  
Peter would give him hell about this later, he always did, but right now he knew exactly what Stiles wanted and he was helpless to deny him. He planted his feet and readied himself just in time for Stile turn and approach him at a dead run. His foot landed squarely in Peter’s waiting palms and Peter threw his fragile human with every ounce of strength he had. Stiles shot him a smile before twisting in the air, his body long, lean, and beautiful in the light of the moon, and flying directly at the face of the giant. As he rushed quickly towards certain death he smoothly slid his bat in the strap on his back and pulled his gun from its holster. Three shots later and the giant fell, with Stiles holding on by its hair as they both crashed to the ground.  
Later when they were safe and healing Peter pulled Stiles aside and looked him over further, the human always tried to hide his wounds from the pack. This time he was laughing at the ‘wolf’s protectiveness.  
“If you really hate when we do that then tell me ‘no’ next time.” Were his parting words as he ran his hand down Peter’s arm and smiled at him.  
Peter was never a religious man, but in that smile he found divinity and a warmth he’d never felt before. He would never tell Stiles ‘No’.

  
_You are a call to motion_  
_There, all of you a verb in perfect view_  
_Like Jonah on the ocean_  
_When you move, I'm moved_

“You guys!” Stiles’ whine brought Peter’s attention away from the discussion he had been having with his nephew.  
Stiles was trying to make dinner and the pups were buzzing around him, eating anything they could snatch while he was distracted. It reminded Peter so achingly strong of his little sister.  
Cherri had been a light in Peter’s life since the moment she was born. He had once heard that little siblings were born to be the person their older sibling needed, and he believed that sometimes when he watched his life. Peter did anything and everything for Talia, but it was Cherri would would seek him out to spend time with not Talia. Soon he realized that the reality is that younger siblings just want to be around their older siblings as much as possible.  
He supposed this was true with the pups and Stiles too. Stiles, though younger than most of them, was the first one of the bitten ‘wolves and other supernaturals to know about their world. He was the one that taught Scott control, and he still taught most of them something new every day. In many ways Stiles was the first beta, and it seemed the others viewed him as an older brother they could push around because he loved them too much to punish them.  
It reminded him so much of the boy he once was, who yearned to be a man. A man who others needed, who others loved, who others wanted. Stiles was a testament to what Peter could’ve become, what he still can become.  
Peter watched on with a twist of nostalgia, regret, and hope in his stomach as Stiles interacted with the pack. A long fingered hand gently pushing a beta away even as he cursed them, a smile pulling at his lips as he hip checked another beta into the refrigerator, an eyebrow raised at the beta watching him from across the room.

  
_When you move_  
_I'm put to mind of all that I wanna be_  
_When you move_  
_I could never define all that you are to me_  
_So move me, baby_  
_Shake like the bough of a willow tree_  
_You do it naturally_  
_Move me, baby_

  
It should be a sin the way Stiles captivated Peter every moment of every day. Peter felt like he was observing a long forgotten god not meant to be seen by the likes of him. He wasn’t worthy. Sitles was light and love and Peter was so full of darkness and hatred, he would only taint him.  
“You’re gloomy today.” Peter blinked, his head slowly rising from the feet of the man walking in front of him to his face.  
“What makes you say that?”  
Stiles shrugged, his thumb coming up to his lips so he could chew his nail, “Normally you’re more talkative. We’ve barely spoken in the half hour we’ve been on patrol.”  
“I will taint you.” Peter breathed out in a moment of vulnerability he’d never admit to later.  
His eyes snapped back up to Stiles’ face as the human laughed, his head thrown back and his shoulders shaking. Even when he’s laughing at Peter he is beautiful. Stiles was created to be in motion, he radiated an erratic aura that usually unsettled people, but Peter was drawn to every twitch and fidget. He was drawn to everything about Stiles and now that he’d shown some of his feelings Stiles could only laugh at him.  
“I am a serial killer and an insane one if you remember correctly, Little Red. I could gobble you up right here and no one would know.” Peter threatened with a leer, the only way he saw out of this embarrassment was to turn the tables.  
Stiles blushed and stopped laughing after that.  
“You haven’t been insane in a long time, Peter, and frankly I would’ve killed them too.” Stiles shrugged again before turning back to the path they were on.  
“So don’t be so gloomy and get up here. I’m lonely.” Was all Stiles had to say to summon Peter to his side.  
They chatted about various things like movies and songs, until Stiles tripped on an exposed root. Peter caught his arm and had him back on his feet before anything dire could happen, but it still pulled a chuckle out of him.  
“You go dancing every weekend, you glide through the air to kill monsters, and you maneuver through the pack with a tray full of hot food, but you can’t watch where you step.” The words seemed like a criticizement, but the crow’s feet that crinkled at the corners of Peter’s eyes as he laughed showed something softer underneath them.  
“Oh hush. I normally pay attention to everything, but with you here I know it’s okay to lower my guard. The root snuck up on me is all.” Stiles huffed indignantly.  
With Peter there Stiles could lower his guard. What a wondrous piece of information. Peter had always known Stiles carried too much by himself when it came to both the pack and his father. He always tried to fix everything by himself. He hid his wounds, and cared for everyone else. Stiles never lowered his guard.  
Except apparently with Peter.

  
_You are the rite of movement_  
_Its reasonin' made lucid and cool_  
_I know it's no improvement_  
_When you move, I move_  
_You're less Polunin leapin'_  
_Or Fred Astaire in sequins_  
_Honey, you, you're Atlas in his sleepin'_  
_And when you move, I'm moved_

  
Peter wasn’t sure how he got here. There were hands on his chest, long elegant fingers pushing against him. His hips swayed to the music and the rest of his body followed suit, all of him focused on worshipping the lithe body in front of him. Stiles had dragged him out to the dance floor and Peter was drunk on the feeling of Stiles moving against him alone.  
They danced until Stiles was panting and covered in sweat. Peter thought once again of the boy he’d been, the life he’d had.  
“My mother would’ve loved you.” Peter whispered the words like a prayer.  
Stiles heard that prayer, ever proving to Peter worthy of his worship and devotion, and smiled at him so sweetly he thought he might cry.  
“Mamo would’ve said you were divine.” Stiles gifted him with those words.  
The next song was an old punk pop hit that had Stiles flashing a grin so bright Peter felt something in him snap back into place.  
Once again Peter found himself observing the destructive, all consuming power of Stiles dancing. It was erratic and uncontrolled, often leaving him apologizing to nearby dancers, but Peter and never seen something so enchanting.  
That night they crashed together in a collision of limbs and teeth. Hands roaming skin and tongues darting out to taste what their hands felt. Eyes burning into the night as they created a crescendo of movement and devotion between them.

  
_When you move_  
_I can recall somethin' that's gone from me_  
_When you move_  
_Honey, I'm put in awe of somethin' so flawed and free_  
_So move me, baby_  
_Shake like the bough of a willow tree_  
_You do it naturally_  
_Move me, baby_

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it!


End file.
